


Industry Rule Number Four-Thousand-and-Eighty, The Grenadine Mix

by Despina



Series: Industry Rule 4080 [3]
Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Despina/pseuds/Despina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long before Homura met Sanzo, Goku and the rest of Lunar Impact, he was in his own band called The War Gods.  With success almost in his grasp, he happened to meet a funny kid named Zakuro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Industry Rule Number Four-Thousand-and-Eighty, The Grenadine Mix

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this tiny *cough* story for my darling Whymzycal, who's constant patience correcting my horrible grammar, terrible punctuation, and awful sentence structure goes above and beyond the call of duty. She loves Zakuro and I hope I managed to do right by him and I'm sorry it took me eight months to finish it.
> 
> Much Love to my betas, Jedishampoo, Moshesque and Whymzycal (because everyone should beta their own gift fic. Yeah, yeah, I suck.)

_Industry rule number four-thousand-and-eighty,  
Record company people are shady…_

From **Check the Rhime** by Tribe Called Quest

 

 _He knew there would come a time when he would ascend to his proper place as a prince of music. He would have legions of adoring fans who would follow him wherever he went. They would scream out his name and throw themselves at his feet. And he would stand before the chanting, frenzied masses and tell them stories through his music, and they would love him for it and believe everything he told them. All he had to do was endure the present ugliness and indifference, and someday he would become a mighty guitarist and repair the injured land._

 _"The land was damaged?" Her eyes were big and not very focused, like that of a little child._

 _Yes, four-thousand-and-eighty was a disastrous plague that deprived people of music. And when people don't have music, they lose hope. You see, the land feeds on hope, and if there isn't any--_

 _"The land dies and then the people die, right, Sho?"_

 _"Right."_

 

 

Zorro met Homura in his seventeenth summer. At the time, Homura Taishi and The War Gods were personal favorites of his and had an exponentially growing pool of fans. They were flirting with fame and headlining at the local summer music festival. Zorro found The War Gods' complex sound enticing, and he considered them a band to emulate. He was also besotted with a few of their members. In particular, he was fascinated with The War Gods' young singer, Nataku, and of course, the band's keyboardist, Homura Taishi. The War Gods were incredibly polished, and Zorro hoped that one day he might rival them in talent.

In stark contrast to The War Gods, Zorro's band, Provenance, was barely legitimate enough to make it as the opening act. If it hadn't been for Ran's father knowing the promoter and calling in some favors, they wouldn't have stood a chance of getting in.

Provenance played to a mostly empty field without much of a reaction. The truth was, they'd only been together for a couple of months, and they weren't very good. To top it off, they weren't meshing, and Zorro could already see the signs of inevitable collapse. Ran was a bully and his drumming uninspired. Zorro's friend, Daichi, didn't really seem to be interested in a career in music. Etsu, their other guitarist and lead singer, seemed interested in music but not in Zorro or the band. She was pretty good, but she was also of the gothic persuasion--aloof and a little scary.

But today, even with the tiny, uninterested crowd, he had felt it. Playing on the giant stage, music flooding his senses, Zorro'd known he was born to be a rock star. And when they came off the stage, Zorro, smiling and high on adrenaline, thought everyone else felt it, too. Instead, he was completely blind-sided by the punch Ran delivered.

Zorro staggered back and fell on his ass, not daring to catch himself because he was holding his guitar. Rubbing his jaw, he glared at Ran. "What was that for?"

"You bastard," Ran hissed. "What were you doing out there? Trying to steal the show, _Zorro_? Stupid, dumbass name for a stupid, purple-haired, faggot dumbass!" Ran kicked him in the thigh.

Pain flared in Zorro's leg and he yelped. "Zorro can't help that he's better than you!"

Ran kicked him several times in quick succession. "Stop talking like that!"

"Don’t be a dick, Ran," Daichi complained.

"Shut up, Daichi! You're a little weasel, and I'll pound you, too, if you don't mind your place!" Ran scowled.

Etsu sighed and stepped over Zorro. "Fucking amateurs. I'm officially done with this band."

"What?" Ran snarled after her.

She kept walking, and her dark, red-streaked hair and a thick cascade of torn black lace rippled behind her. Ran returned his glare to Zorro.

Zorro swallowed and kept his mouth shut. Ran was twice his size and Zorro's ribs still hurt from the beating the beast had given him last time. Zorro looked helplessly at Daichi, who looked away. They were both pathetically weak.

Ran grabbed Zorro's guitar and pulled it out of his hands. "Let's see you steal a show if you don't have your guitar, you little prick."

"No!" Zorro scrambled to his feet and threw himself at Ran, jumping in the air to get his precious guitar.

Laughing, Ran dangled the guitar just out of reach, and with his free hand, he punched Zorro's unprotected stomach.

His vision blurred and he crumpled into a heap on the floor of the stage, his heart breaking for his lovely guitar as his consciousness faded. Lovely Grenadine.

That guitar had taken Zorro almost a year of washing dishes and other lowly jobs to buy. It was sweet sounding and a beautiful blood-red. There'd been other, more expensive guitars at the shop, but Grenadine was the one he'd settled on because she'd called to him. She was like a princess who could only manifest her appearance when he struck the right chords. He loved her, but he was too weak to protect her.

"Hey, kid, are you all right?"

Zorro struggled to sit up and looked around wildly. "Grenadine!"

"Grenadine?" A dark-haired man crouched next to him. He had a hand on Zorro's shoulder. "If you mean your guitar, it's right over there."

Zorro glanced over at his Grenadine and breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe, whole, and propped up in a guitar stand. "Did you--"

"Hold still. Let me check your head." The man's voice was low and sultry. He gently grabbed Zorro's chin and pushed his hair away from his face.

Zorro's heart was beating faster than a heavy metal drum solo. The face in front of him was a face he saw every day looking at him from the numerous posters tacked to his bedroom walls.

Warm fingers touched Zorro soothingly and with genuine care; he had to fight to keep from closing his eyes. Plus, Homura smelled nice and he was very attractive for, you know, a _guy_. Not that Zorro would know about that, because he wasn't, you know, gay or anything. Zorro was very aware of his delicate looks and overall weakness. Ran already called Zorro gay all of the time. If Ran knew he thought Homura was hot--no, he wasn't hot!--Zorro's ribs hurt just thinking about it.

"Yes. I think you're going to live, but you're going to be sore." He pulled back and gave Zorro a lazy smile. "Was that kid a band member of yours?"

"Was." Zorro moved his jaw experimentally and stared at Homura, still wondering how it could really be him. "I don't think there's much of a band, now."

Nodding in understanding, Homura said, "The politics of bands are very harsh, but even so, there's no need for violence against instruments." His eyes were really two different colors, just like in the posters and the magazines. Holding out his hand, Homura said, "I'm Homura Taishi."

"I know," Zorro said as he gripped the warm, dry hand and looked away, feeling his face heat. "You play keyboards for The War Gods."

"Indeed, I do."

"I can't believe you're the one who--it's almost like one of my …" Zorro shook his head, more embarrassed than ever. "You're really good."

Homura shrugged. "I get by."

"Did you stop Ran from wrecking Gren--I mean, my guitar?"

"Of course I stopped him," he drawled, his odd eyes sparkling as if he could look right inside Zorro and see what he was thinking.

"Thank you." Zorro blushed.

"Grenadine, huh?" Homura looked at Zorro's guitar. "You mean like the pomegranate juice?"

"Yes." His mother was very fond of grenadine and tequila. Of course, she was fond of anything even mildly alcoholic.

"Hmm. Well, it is bright red." Homura chuckled. "Clever. What's your name, kid?"

"I am The Amazing Zor--" Under Homura's amused, intense stare, Zorro's confidence faltered. "My name is Zorro."

"Zorro? Like the guy with the sword?"

"Sword?" What was Homura talking about? "No, like the fox!"

Homura laughed as he stood up and held out his hand for Zorro. "Now, that's not so clever. I hope that's a stage name."

Zorro took the offered hand and stood up. "Why?"

Homura released Zorro's hand and turned. "Come on, Foxy, I know where we can get some ice for your cheek."

Grabbing Grenadine, Zorro trailed after Homura, watching the lazy sway of his new friend's hips. Zorro wasn't gay, yet, even the most not-gay guy in the world had to see how ripped Homura was--the guy's body was perfect. Zorro was dimly aware that his jaw hurt and he wasn't sure how he'd get home since his ride had left, but he just couldn't look away from Homura's ass.

Strange.

Zorro followed Homura into a small trailer behind the stage. "Zorro's band only had a tent, not a trailer."

"Trust me, it's not that glamorous since we're sharing the trailer with two other bands." Homura looked over his shoulder and quirked an eyebrow. "Do you often refer to yourself in third person?"

"Um, I'm …"

Homura clicked his tongue. "Relax, I'm not judging you. I think it's an interesting approach."

"Really?"

"Sure." Homura opened a small refrigerator. "You want a beer?"

Zorro had never had a beer before and wasn't too keen on alcohol because of his mother, but he didn't want to appear weak. "Zorro would be … yes. I would."

Homura handed him a beer and nodded toward the small table. "Sit. I'll get you an ice pack."

Zorro noted that the cushions were unnaturally hard when he settled at the cheap and peeling table. He looked around the little trailer, taking in the tattered decor. Outside the window, he could see other trailers, and some were much fancier.

Homura nudged Zorro's leg and slid into the bench seat next to him. Gently, he placed a towel-wrapped ice pack on Zorro's cheek. "That's the spot, right?"

The ice soothed his sore cheek. Zorro stared at Homura and shifted nervously in his seat. "Yes."

Homura grabbed Zorro's hand and placed it on the icepack. He smiled as he said, "I'm not going to hold it for you, okay?"

"Uh, right." Zorro fumbled with the cool fabric and held the pack in place.

"I think you need to ditch the name Zorro."

"What?" Zorro frowned. "What's wrong with my name? I think it's catchy."

"It's been done. Don't you want to stand out, make yourself unique? I don't think Zorro fits you."

Zorro huffed. "You're very full of yourself, Mr. War God."

"Indeed, I am." Homura tilted his head to one side, and a tumble of thick, dark hair fell over his blue eye. His sultry voice became breathier. "You could learn a lot from me about many things, you know."

Zorro swallowed, unable to think up a snappy comeback. The guy was blatantly hitting on him now. At least, Zorro thought that was what Homura was doing. Of course, maybe he was only being teased. The worst part of the situation was that Zorro didn't know if he wanted Homura to be serious or not. He was very, very confused.

"Why are you so red?" Homura smirked. "You're the same color as your guitar."

"I'm--"

Homura sat back with what appeared to be deliberate slowness. After languidly shaking the hair out of his eyes, he smiled. His smile wasn't pleasant; it was more akin to what a predator might do while it waited for its prey to move again. Zorro felt that mismatched gaze move over him, processing his fidgeting fingers, his heated face, the length of his body, taking in every detail. He squirmed with the intensity of Homura's scrutiny.

As if satisfied with mentally and emotionally undressing Zorro, Homura asked, "How old are you?"

"I'm--" Zorro swallowed again. Then he lifted his chin and straightened his back. "I'm twenty-one."

Homura raised an eyebrow and picked up his beer.

Zorro deflated. "I'm seventeen. But I'll be eighteen next month."

"Well, you're almost legal, at least." Homura exhaled and shook his head. "Seventeen. I must be out of my mind."

Before Zorro could ask Homura to explain, the door opened and three men entered the trailer. One had an eye patch, one a cascade of white hair, and the final one was shorter and looked younger than the other two. Zenon, Shien, and Nataku--The War Gods.

Zenon slid into the seat across from them. "Hey. We finished the sound check. It's not great, but it'll work."

"Just like all the outdoor venues we play." Nataku sat down next to Zenon.

Shien sat down on the trailer's couch. "The crowd is growing; I think it will be a fine show."

Homura nodded. "Good."

Zenon tilted his head toward Zorro. "What happened to your fanboy?"

Zorro scowled. "Zorro is no one's fanboy!"

Zenon's lips quirked into a smile. "Oh, yeah, I get it."

Homura gave a lazy shrug and sipped at his beer. Shien shifted his gaze out the trailer's small window and said nothing.

Zorro's face felt as if it was burning and he looked down. He would have gotten up and left, but to do so, he would have had to crawl over Homura. Zorro couldn't add that humiliation to his already smarting ego.

Nataku tapped his hand. "Hey, don't let these guys tease you. Is that your guitar?"

"Yes," Zorro sighed. "But Zorro's band broke up today."

"So that's what happened to you. Band breakups can be brutal." Zenon tapped his cheek. "How do you think I lost my eye?"

Zorro pulled away, pressing into Homura's side. Zenon was a little scary.

Zenon laughed as he shifted his shoulders against the seat and lit a cigarette. Nataku was still staring at Zorro's guitar. "A Telecaster."

"Um, yes."

"That red is a great color."

Homura's low voice practically dripped with innuendo, as he said, "Isn't it? Just like his blush."

Right on time, Zorro's felt his face warm again. He decided it was an uncontrollable reaction to the timbre of Homura's voice.

Zenon made a derisive sound. "Watch out for him, kid. He'll eat a cherry like you for a snack."

"I prefer to think of him as a pomegranate. Bright red, tangy, and begging to be peeled." Homura draped his arm over the back of the bench seat. His knee bumped against Zorro's.

Nataku glared. "Ease up, you guys. Let him out, Homura, I want to hear him play."

Homura stood up and gave Zorro a smile that made him feel undressed. Did the guy do that to everyone--strip them bare with his fascinating, unflinching eyes? Zorro thought that would be a pretty cool talent--that is, if it was happening to someone else. As he tried to wriggle past Homura, Zorro banged his hip on the table.

"Careful," Homura's honeyed voice crooned as he helped steady Zorro with a hand on the small of his back.

"Oh, give it a rest, Homura," Nataku snapped. "You're making him nervous."

"If you say so." Homura released Zorro, sat back down, and put his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his upraised hand. The angle caused his dark hair to fall over his blue eye.

Zorro looked around. "Is there an amp?"

"No, but you can use this--" Shien stood up and smoothly walked to the back of the trailer. He returned with two acoustic guitars and handed one to Zorro. "It's Homura's instrument, and I'm relatively certain he won't mind you playing it."

Behind him, Zorro heard Homura's silky laugh.

"Th--thank you." Zorro swallowed and his chest felt tight, as if squeezed under an immense amount of pressure. The War Gods were asking _him_ to play! Part of him couldn't wait to tell that bully Ran how he, The Awesome Zorro, played for an exclusive audience of The War Gods. Mentally, he shook his head. Ran would never believe him and he'd probably just end up getting another beating.

Also, there was the problem of Homura. He was definitely coming on to Zorro, and he didn't quite know how to deal with it. He studied Homura. His admirer sat at an angle, his elbow on the table and his long, lean legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Confidence practically radiated from him. His black t-shirt hugged his toned body like a second skin, and he knew he looked good. If Zorro were gay, Homura was exactly the type of guy he'd be attracted to.

Luckily, he wasn't gay, so he wasn't interested. Not at all.

"What will you play?" Nataku was standing next to him.

"I don't know."

"You know _All Night Thing_?"

"Yes."

"Let's do it, then." Nataku opened his mouth and sang:  
" _She motioned to me--  
That she wanted to leave.  
And go somewhere warm--  
Where we'd be alone._"

Zorro picked up the melody. Zenon was tapping a rhythm on the table with drumsticks that had magically appeared in his hands, and Shien was strumming his own guitar. Zorro concentrated. Shien was so good, and Nataku's voice flowed through the mingling chords like quicksilver, malleable and beautiful. The music soothed Zorro's aches and humiliations, making him feel whole and strong again. Invincible and mighty enough to endure any of Homura's teasing. His confidence was nearly restored by the time the song ended.

Nataku grinned at him. "Not bad."

"Hey, kid, you're pretty good." Zenon was also smiling. "You'll have no trouble finding a new band."

"Yes." Shien took back Homura's guitar. "I do hope you will continue to play."

Zorro furrowed his brow. "Why wouldn't I? I'm good."

"Yes," Shien agreed. "You are, but much of the time, that isn't enough. Am I correct, Homura?"

Looking over at Homura, Zorro saw that sometime during his performance, Homura had leaned forward, and he now had his elbows on his knees. Homura gave him a sad smile, his flirting absent for the moment. "It's a matter of luck and chemistry. Being good isn't necessarily the key."

"Oh." Zorro felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. "But what else is there? Music is what I want to do."

The room was heavy with silence.

"This is depressing." Nataku sighed and then grabbed Zorro's hand. "Come on, let's go watch some music."

"But what about Grenadine?"

Nataku laughed. "You mean your guitar?"

"Yes."

"It'll be fine here."

"Try to be back in a couple of hours," Shien called after them. "We go on at nine o'clock."

"Right." Nataku pulled Zorro out the door with him.

 

They prowled the festival together, making fun of bands that weren't so good and analyzing ones that were. Zorro enjoyed Nataku's easy, carefree presence, and because he was a well-known guest as a member of The War Gods, they were able to talk to several of the other bands and share stories.

They came around a corner and saw Homura talking to a blond-haired man carrying a bass. They stood very close together, and the bass player was very handsome and very fit. For some reason, Zorro felt a little agitated. Hadn’t Homura just been coming on to him? Was he so fickle that he would quickly toss Zorro aside? Zorro could not believe Homura was--

Nataku was staring at him.

Zorro cleared his throat. "What?"

"You look pretty mad." Nataku chewed on his lip. "You like him, don't you?"

"Me? No way!"

"But I thought--"

"Zorro, liking a man?" Zorro gave a hearty laugh. "I think not!"

Nataku blinked. "Ooookay. Look, I'm not saying you do, but if you _did_ like him, I think you should know he's mostly talk. He flirts a lot, but he doesn’t follow through too often, so just as a friendly warning, try not to take him seriously. He's not a bad guy, but he does like to rattle people. It's a game with him. Sometimes he takes it too far. He has hurt people before."

"Oh." Zorro felt a sudden sense of loss. "Well, that's good, since I'm not—" Nataku was still watching him, and Zorro took a deep breath. "I'm definitely not interested."

"Right." Nataku touched Zorro's arm lightly. "Come on, let’s head back to the trailer now. You can help me get ready."

Nataku's hair needed tying back, but other than that, Zorro was mostly in the way. Nataku stayed close to him, though, making him feel wanted and as if they were actually friends. Nataku seemed lonely, and Zorro could sympathize with that. Zorro received so little love himself.

He reveled in the illusion of friends and belonging and, if he could have, he would have wished for the night to last forever. Instead, he stored each detail carefully, remembering the audience, the songs, their conversations, and the magic in order to revisit the night again. He would translate his time with The War Gods into fantastic stories. Maybe someday he would even share the tales.

After their set was done, Zorro helped them pack up. Zenon drove their van with Shien while Nataku and Zorro rode in a beat-up car with Homura.

Homura was oddly quiet, but Nataku assured Zorro that was how he unwound from a show. After dropping Nataku at his home, Homura asked for directions to Zorro's house. They drove in silence until they reached Zorro's dilapidated building, where Homura parked the car on a side street and shut the engine off.

"Will your family be worried about you?" Homura touched the broken clock on the dashboard.

Zorro tried to laugh, but instead a strangled sound came out and he shook his head. "No. I--Zorro will not have been missed."

"Really? I guess that explains a lot." In the shadows of a street lamp, Homura raised an eyebrow. "Even if it is rather depressing."

"Zorro does quite well, thank you."

Homura looked at Zorro, a dark pain radiated from his mismatched gaze. "We all seem to find our way, don't we?"

Homura's words were melancholy, and Zorro wondered what past trials his new friend had faced. He studied Homura's serious face, his mouth was suddenly bone dry. "Can Zor--can I come see you again?"

"Absolutely." Lifting his hand, Homura touched Zorro's uninjured cheek. He leaned close. Lips touched Zorro's and set a buzzing of nerve-endings in motion. He'd never experienced anything so electric, and when Homura pulled away, Zorro continued to savor the taste lingering on his tongue. He sighed. "I think you liked that."

"Ye--yeah." Zorro's eyes fluttered open to see a smug look on Homura's face.

"We're playing at Pele's Inferno on Saturday. Do you want to come? I can get you on the list as a guest."

Zorro felt his jaw drop a little, and he closed his mouth with a snap. "Really?"

Homura chuckled. "Yes, but you'll have to keep it quiet. And you'll need to go through a side door because you're underage."

"Zorro can do that!"

"I know you can. But there is a catch. There are a couple of things I want in return."

Zorro could hear the tremor in his voice when he asked, "What things?"

"First, I get to call you Zakuro from now on."

"Zakuro?"

"Yes." Homura's eyes sparkled and his teasing drawl returned. "And second, I'll get you into the show if I can get some more kisses from you."

Zorro couldn't look away from Homura. "Zor--Zakuro would like that."

 

 _One day during his lonely journey, the musician prince met two new friends. One was kind and gentle and could see the past pain the prince had endured. He smiled and said, "I can sing and I wish to join you in your travels. I can help you heal the tattered world with my voice."_

 _The prince was very grateful to the singer and graciously accepted his help. They set off together to find and fight the growing evil in the land._

 _"What about the other friend?"_

 _"Mother, don't interrupt, I'm telling--"_

 _"You said there were two, what about the other one? I want to hear about him! Was he handsome?"_

 _"Yes. He was also strong and fearless. A warrior musician who vowed to rid the land of plague four-thousand-and-eighty."_

 

Pele's was a popular place, but Zorro had never been inside because he wasn't old enough. He had several acquaintances who had managed to secure fake IDs and get in, but Zorro didn't know how to get a fake ID. When he approached the nearly hidden and closed door on the side, he wasn't sure he'd gain entrance. For all Zorro knew, Homura might have already forgotten about him.

Not knowing what else to do, he knocked. A tall, thin redhead answered the door and gave him a once-over. "Light purple hair, lanky body." The guy quirked a smile at him. "Are you Zakuro?"

"That's not really my name. Homura--"

Holding up his hand and laughing, the man said, "Say no more. I know all about Homura. You need to watch out for him. Although you are a bit younger than his usual, so he might-- Sorry, never mind."

Zorro wasn't sure how to respond. _So he might …_ what?

"I'm Kougaiji." He opened the door wide and waved for Zorro to follow him. Kougaiji led him through the club, behind the stage, and down a dark hallway. "Oh, and if anyone asks, you snuck in here, right? You'll get us shut down if the authorities catch someone underage here. "

"Right." Zorro wondered what kind of influence Homura had at Pele's Inferno, if he could get an underage kid into a club. His curiosity got the better of him. "Have you known Homura long?"

"You could say that, yeah. We went to school together." Kougaiji turned a corner. "I tried to sing in one of his bands at one time, but I really wasn't into it. This is my mother's club, and I'm much better at running it than singing."

"So, you enjoy music?"

"Of course."

"You like The War Gods?"

"That's a loaded question." Kougaiji chuckled. "They are very good and yes, I like them, but I try not to get attached--bands come and go. Besides, I’m not certain Homura wants to make a life out of rock-n-roll. Well, not in a band, anyway. He has options, and where he goes, Zenon and Shien will undoubtedly follow." He stopped and opened a door. "Here we are. Remember, you snuck in."

"I'll remember."

"Hey, it’s Kou, and the kid!" Zenon bellowed from inside the room.

Nataku said with a smile, "I’m glad to see you. Come on in."

Homura's sultry, unhurried voice slithered around him. "Hey, Zakuro."

"Zakuro?" Shien was leaning against a back wall, half hidden in the shadows. Zorro hadn’t even seen him. "I thought his name was Fox."

Zenon shook his head. "You mean Zorro."

"Correct. Fox." Shien pushed away from the wall. "Homura, have you changed his name?"

"Zakuro fits him better, don’t you think?" Homura was lounging on a beat-up couch, radiating his usual confidence. Zorro admired that about Homura; the guy was incredibly self-assured. Maybe a little of that boldness would transfer to him.

"Good timing, whatever your name is, kid."

"Good timing?" Zorro frowned.

Nataku was still smiling. "My bass is still in the van, and I'm not quite ready. Would you mind getting it for me? These guys won't go."

"Of course Zorro will get your bass!"

Zenon pitched the keys at him. "It's the Ford. Right by the back door. Just come up the stairs. We'll make sure Kou's thugs let you through."

"Right! Zorro will return directly."

Outside, the air was heavy with humidity and he retrieved the bass quickly, wanting to get inside before the coming downpour happened. As he hurried through the crowd, he noticed there was a different kind of humidity inside. He tried to curl his body around Nataku's guitar, shielding it from the jostling crowd. The masses were still buzzing with the fading adrenaline from the last band and the building anticipation of The War Gods' upcoming set. Zorro slipped through and was about to head down the stairs to the dressing room when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"Well, look who's here," a familiar voice, dripping with contempt, said just behind him. "It's the Amazing Dumbass!"

Zorro turned. "Oh, hi, Ran."

Ran was with his equally giant and possibly more stupid friend, Aki. Ran sneered as he asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Um, Zorro was invited by some friends."

"Don't give me that. You don't have any friends. What'd ya do? Sneak in?"

Aki snorted.

Zorro frowned. "Excuse me, Zorro is expected elsewhere."

Ran laughed; it was an evil, ugly sound, and Zorro knew what was coming. His stomach flipped and he quickly stepped back and twisted out of Ran's grip. He sprinted toward the stairs in an attempt to save Nataku's bass.

"Hey!"

Zorro could hear his enemies take up the chase and he pushed himself harder, he would protect the bass at any cost. He leapt down the small flight of stairs, landing awkwardly on his right ankle and giving it a savage twist, but he kept going.

"You're _dead_ , Zorro!"

His ankle buckled and he fell, twisting his body so he landed on his back, saving the bass but effectively knocking the air from his lungs. He was helpless, unable to even catch a breath as he saw Ran and his brute of a friend hover over him.

"Not the bass! Don't hurt the bass!" he gasped as he squeezed his eyes shut and waited.

And waited.

Zenon's voice boomed out, "Hey, now."

Zorro cracked open his right eye and saw a strange vision. Ran was dangling in the air, his feet kicking frantically.

Nataku materialized above him, gently removing the bass from his fingers. "Are you all right?"

"I believe Zorro has an injured ankle, but other than that, he is fine." Zorro sat up and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Oh, Ran was dangling because Zenon was holding him by the back of his jacket.

"Shien?" Zenon asked calmly.

"Yes?"

"Is that a nail sticking out of the wall over there?"

Shien moved to inspect a spot on the wall. As he stepped away, Zorro saw Aki lying on the floor. He was moving, but in a bizarrely undulating manner. Zorro rolled to his side and squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Aki was hog-tied and gagged. Two long strands of rope dangled from Shien's hand.

"Why, yes, Zenon. There is a nail, and a rather sturdy one at that. Would you like some assistance?"

"Yeah, he's squirmin' around quite a bit."

Together, they hung the struggling yet strangely quiet Ran by the back of his coat. Zorro got the feeling that this was not the first time they'd done something like this. He could see an amused Homura leaning against the wall in the background. Homura hadn't been involved in the altercation, but there was no question as to who was in charge. Catching Zorro watching him, Homura smirked and pushed away from the wall.

Homura leaned down to offer Zorro his hand and helped him to his feet. Because his legs were visibly shaking, Homura looped his arm around Zorro's waist. "You did good, my fearless, foxy pomegranate."

"He did." Shien smiled.

Nataku grinned. "You were awesome, Zorro!"

Zenon lit a cigarette and laughed. "Yeah, I think he should play at least one song with us."

"Play? You mean, on stage?" Zorro looked at all of them as he relaxed into Homura's hold. "But I don't have Grenadine."

"If you remember correctly, we have other guitars." Shien's eyes seemed to twinkle.

"I even brought the red one," Homura's voice thrummed. "Just in case."

Zorro looked at all of them again. Ran had quit struggling from his embarrassing spot on the wall. He glared daggers at Zorro. Straightening his back, Zorro said, "I will, but be prepared for Zorro to steal the show!"

Ran shouted, "Shut up! Someone needs to get me down right now!"

"Oh, I believe someone will be along to collect you soon." Shien didn't even look at Ran. Instead, he glided toward their dressing room.

Zenon blew smoke in Ran's face. "Or your coat could tear and you could fall." Then he stared to laugh.

"Hey!" Kougaiji hopped down the last two steps, stopping short when he spied the two prisoners. He ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. "Oh, god, Homura, what are you up to this time?"

Homura shrugged. "Bully patrol."

Kougaiji sighed. "Every time you guys play here, something weird happens."

"No, they were helping me." Zorro limped forward. "It's Zorro's fault. They were after me."

"Shut up, Zorro!" Ran's feet flailed helplessly in the air. "I'm so kicking your ass when I get down from here!"

Kougaiji chewed on his lip. "I see. Well, I'll call Doku and have him come down to help me. That should take a couple of hours."

"Hours?!" Ran sputtered.

"Or I'd be happy to call your mommy to come get you. I'd bet she'd love to find out about your fake ID."

Ran closed his mouth.

"No? Well, you let me know if you change your mind later." Kougaiji turned back to Homura. "Are you going on stage? The crowd is growing antsy."

"Hang on." Homura tugged at Zorro's vest. "First we need to get our new band member ready."

Zorro grabbed at Homura's wrist. "What--"

"Trust me," Homura said with a smile.

Zorro blushed as everyone in the room watched Homura undress him. Homura's fingertips were cool as they brushed against Zorro's naked stomach and over his chest in an unhurried gathering of fabric. Zorro shivered as Homura's fingers lifted the t-shirt and curled, somehow managing to caress a bare nipple.

"Mmm. Now," Homura crooned, as his hands guided Zorro's pliant arms. "We just put your vest back on and you're all set."

Zorro opened his eyes, unaware that he'd closed them. He could feel the air circulating around his skin underneath the vest. And he wasn't certain how he felt about being half-naked on stage.

Nataku grinned. "You look good."

"Yes, I think I have to agree. I might even have to borrow that look sometime, if you don't mind." Kou's gaze swept over the others in the room. "Now, could you please go to work?"

Homura motioned toward the stairs. "Shall we, gentlemen?"

Zenon handed Zorro a red guitar and Nataku pulled him along. Zorro limped up the stairs he'd just fallen down and took a turn up another equally small flight that led up a dark stage. Zorro spent the next two exhilarating hours performing with The War Gods, an easy task for him since he knew all their songs by heart. He'd spent many hours at home, practicing their music in front of a mirror, pretending to be part of their band. Being on stage with them was literally a dream come true.

When they finished and Zorro was waving at the crowd, filled with adrenaline and covered with sweat, he saw Etsu, his other former band member, give him an uncharacteristic thumbs up. Still feeling the flood of euphoria, he ran off the stage to talk with her.

She gave him a controlled smile. "Since when do you hang out with these guys?"

"Oh, Zorro just met them at the festival. When Provenance broke up."

Someone patted him on the back and pressed a drink into his hand. He took a sip and gagged; the liquid fire of alcohol burned his throat.

"You sounded good." She stared up at the stage. "Are you joining their band?"

"Me? Oh, I don't think so." He glanced over his shoulder. There were several people on the stage, packing up equipment. Homura was talking to that blond-haired bass player again. "Sorry, I need to get back."

She handed him a card. "If you need someone for your next band, call me."

Zorro blinked as he tried to processes what she said. "Really?"

"Yes." She actually laughed. "Really. You were the only one worth a damn out of Provenance. Well, you and me. So call me."

"Um--"

"For the band, okay?" She frowned. "Not for anything else."

"I wasn't--"

"Hey, foxy Zakuro!" Homura's sultry voice wove through the jumble of noise to reach him. "Get up here and help."

Etsu arched an eyebrow. "Zakuro?"

"Um, yeah, it's a long story." Zorro shrugged. "But Zakuro is what Homura calls Zorro."

"Zakuro." She tilted her head. "I like it. You should call yourself that. Zorro is kind of a dumb name, but Zakuro totally fits you."

"That's what I've been trying to tell him." Homura's voice was silky as he brushed shoulders with Zorro. "And you are …?"

"Etsu." She tipped her head in an almost-bow. "We used to play in a band together."

"Ah." Homura gave her a smile.

It was a very charming smile and, for some reason, it made Zorro angry.

"Look, I gotta go." She glanced toward the exit. "It was nice meeting you, Homura. And _Zakuro_ , call me!" Etsu disappeared into the crowd.

A moment passed as they both watched her walk away.

"She's cute." Homura's voice sounded a bit tight.

"Yeah."

"Are you interested?"

"What?" Zorro faced Homura and his heart skipped a beat. Homura's features were serious, almost as if he were jealous. Nah, that couldn't be. Zorro laughed. "No, Zorro isn't interested. She's too scary. Plus, I don't think she likes men."

"Good." Homura smiled. "Come on, let's go help."

Later, when Zorro placed the last of Zenon's packed drum kit into the back of the van, he could feel the adrenaline rush wear off, and the pain set in. When he stepped down the back stairs to the dressing room, his sore ankle gave out and he stumbled. Homura slipped an arm around his waist and steadied him.

"Whoa, careful," Homura's seductive voice whispered in his ear.

Both arms encircled him now, pulling him back up the step and flush against Homura's body as a huge man with dreadlocks came up the short flight of stairs. Zorro could feel the ripples of Homura's abs sliding along his back. A hipbone jutted into Zorro's ass and his body reacted.

Neither one of them spoke, but Zorro's heartbeat seemed very loud. He felt he should move, but Homura pressed tightly against him felt right somehow. Warm fingers grazed over his naked belly and Zorro's erection pulsed with the touch.

Several voices neared the stairs, so Homura pulled them deeper into the backstage shadows. Zorro let himself be guided in the dark, aware that like a leading dancer, Homura had repositioned them both. Zorro felt his back come up against a wall and then Homura was in front of him, smoothing back his hair and kissing his temple, his cheek, and finally his mouth, with a gentle brush of lips, followed by the soft, wet slide of Homura's tongue.

Zorro wasn't thinking clearly and he opened his mouth, wanting to experience more. The taste of Homura's saliva was slightly metallic and so tantalizing it caused Zorro's taste buds to fizz. Homura's tongue pushed deeper inside as warm fingers traveled down Zorro's unclad arm and under his vest.

There was a burst of aching heat in his groin, an inferno of desire coursing through his nerve-endings. Losing himself to this feeling could be so easy. Homura's foot slid between his, pressing their bodies tightly together. Zorro caught his breath when he realized Homura's erection was a twin to his own.

Homura rolled his hips, sliding his erection alongside Zorro's, digging his hard length into Zorro's sensitive flesh with a quiet moan. Homura's warm breath tingled against Zorro's ear as he said, "Oh, yes, I want you, my little pomegranate."

"Guh. Wha--" Zorro managed to answer. There was an odd buzzing in his ears and his body felt as if it belonged to someone else. He was dimly aware that his pants were open and Homura's fingers were slithering inside his underwear.

"Mmm." Homura murmured quiet, incomprehensible words of encouragement while his fingers encircled Zorro's erection, thumb rubbing against the wet slit.

Zorro's body rocked with the touch. "Uh, wait! No."

"No?" Homura stroked him, Zorro's own flowing desire slicking the contact. Nuzzling Zorro's neck, Homura whispered, "Are you certain you want me to stop?"

"No. I mean yes." Zorro's shoulders dug into the wall as he thrust his hips forward in time with Homura's sliding caresses.

Homura's hand paused, but still squeezed. He pulled his head back, searching Zorro's eyes. "Do you _really_ want me to stop?"

The buzzing in Zorro's head grew louder. He rocked his body, trying to regain some friction with Homura's hand. Zorro was so close and if Homura quit now-- He shivered. "Oh, no, please don't stop!"

Chuckling, Homura gripped him tighter and resumed his strokes. "As you wish."

Zorro sighed with pleasure as he eased closer to his orgasm. He was definitely not the master of his body as his hips bucked into Homura's hand. Anyone walking by could see them if they looked, and somehow that made the experience feel dangerous, exciting, and dirty.

Homura angled close and kissed Zorro, their tongues twisting together.

Zorro was at the pinnacle; his muscles couldn't have been any more tense. He teetered on the edge when Homura bit his earlobe and said, "Next time it's my turn, and I want to come inside you."

That did it. Zorro threw back his head and cried out with his release. He was loud. Very loud. Homura, laughing with what seemed to be delight, kissed him again, quieting his cry.

"Oh, god, Homura! Can't you take your chippies elsewhere to do them?"

Zorro tried to cover himself as he snuck a look over Homura's shoulder. Kougaiji had his arms crossed, but he was clearly amused.

Homura turned as he licked his fingers. "As if you don't do the same thing, my friend."

"Not when Mother is here." Kougaiji shook his head and turned away. "Well, try to keep it down, at least."

Homura watched Kougaiji walk away. "He's such a buzz-kill when his mom's around."

Zorro had managed partially to cover himself, but his body felt heavy and lethargic. Plus, he was kind of _wet_ in places.

"Oh, hey, don't worry about him." Homura's moist hands curved around Zorro's waist as they kissed. "How did you like that?"

He tried to push Homura away, reeling with uncertainty. This wasn't supposed to happen, he wasn't supposed to like it. Zorro's breathing was fast and his voice cracked when he said, "Zorro is not gay!"

"I see." In the shadowy back stage, Homura smirked. "Am I going too fast for you?"

"Um, yes. I mean no." He searched for an answer. "Zorro is not gay!"

"Right. You mentioned that." Homura licked Zorro's ear. "Let's go watch the next band, okay?"

"Um. I'm a little," Zorro waved his hands at his opened pants, "sticky."

"Yes. I see that." Homura grabbed Zorro's hips and folded down to his knees, his tongue dragging against Zorro's stomach.

Zorro moaned and let his shoulders fall back against the wall as he felt his erection stir to life again. "Oh!"

When he was finished licking Zorro clean, Homura stood up. He fastened Zorro's pants and took his hand, dragging him toward the floor. "Come on. Maybe we can dance."

Zorro followed without complaint, wondering about Homura all the while. Was he still hard? Would he be all right? What could Zorro do to help?

Wait, what was he thinking? Right. Zorro muttered, "Zorro is not gay," under his breath. He pulled his hand away with force. This wasn't fair--Homura was treating him as if he were some sort of toy. And what had just happened was wrong. So, so wrong.

Wasn't it?

Homura turned and looked at him. "Zakuro? Is something--"

"I am not gay!" Zakuro thought he might start to cry, although he couldn't understand why. That didn't make any sense. In fact, very little of what he was feeling made any sense to him. He remembered random, vicious beatings, not just from Ran, but there had been others as well. He remembered black eyes, bloody noses, and sore ribs, all for _suspicion_ of being gay. If he actually was gay---

He ran for the door.

He could hear Homura call after him, "Hey, wait--"

Outside, Zorro shivered as he walked down the deserted street. He tried to figure out what he'd just done. He was sad and confused and felt as if the layer he'd put in place, that slim cushion of protection between him and the world, was unraveling, like one of his childhood illusions.

Like a prince switched at birth by an evil sorcerer. Or a samurai who'd taken a blow to his head and forgotten who he was. Or even a rock star soon to be worshipped by thousands of fans. All of those dreams eventually melted into reality when he got his ass kicked by a bully or when his mom went on a drunken spree.

Or when he blew it with a potential boyfriend.

At the moment, Zorro didn't know who he hated more--Homura for dismantling him, or himself for rejecting the one real thing he'd ever experienced.

Then, of course, it started to rain. And not just a simple drizzle; this was a skin-soaking deluge. He shivered under his saturated vest, wishing he'd remembered his shirt.

A car pulled up alongside him, a battered Honda Civic whose glory days were long past. "Zorro?"

He raised his head, grateful for the rainwater streaming down his face when he saw Nataku's look of sympathy through the opened car window.

"Get in already, would ya?"

Zorro thought he should protest, but he didn't. Silently, he rounded the back end of the car and slid into the passenger seat.

"You're soaked." Nataku tossed him a towel and his previously forgotten t-shirt. "Here."

He only nodded his head because he was afraid the tide of emotions would break, and no amount of rainwater would be able to hide it. Zorro was grateful for Nataku's silence while he regained his composure and dried off.

Finally, Nataku did speak, his voice sounding tight with anger. "Homura didn't …" Nataku exhaled. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Zorro blinked in the alternating darkness and light as they passed under the street lamps. He tried to make sense of Nataku's question. "What do you mean?"

Nataku stopped at a red light and turned his head to make eye contact. "I mean, he didn't force you into anything, did he?"

Zorro felt very, very tired. He let his head loll back on the seat. "No, he didn't."

Releasing a breath, Nataku said, "Well, that's good. They way you ran out, it seemed--ah, well, let's just say I was worried. Homura was worried, too, enough that he asked me to go get you."

"Homura sent you?"

"Yes, although I probably would have come on my own." Nataku pulled the car into an empty parking lot and cut off the engine. He turned and faced Zorro. "Are you okay?"

Zorro shivered. "Yeah, Zorro is fine."

Nataku nudged his keys with a finger. They rattled softly as they swung back and forth from the ignition. "I'm not sure I should tell you this, but he really likes you. He doesn't usually worry about the people he, um, pursues. I think he's more surprised than any of us about his reaction."

"His reaction? But he's the one who confuses me." Zorro ran a hand through his hair and the threat of more tears made his eyes sting. "I didn't think I was _that way_. But now, I feel like I don't know anything, especially not myself."

Nataku smiled. "You mean because you feel you might be attracted to men?"

"Yes." Zorro could feel his face heat. "I was shocked because I liked it."

"Well, it still doesn't mean anything." Nataku grinned at him. "I mean, we're guys, and you know, sometimes anyone's touch will do."

"No. I don't think just anyone would make me feel that much. I know I don't have a lot to compare it with, but that was--" Zorro swallowed. "Powerful."

Nataku arched an eyebrow at him. "Really? Well, now that I think about it, he must have a pretty profound effect on you because you aren't referring to yourself in third person."

Zorro smiled, feeling a bit better. "My real name is Sho."

"Yeah?" Nataku returned the smile.

"Yeah." Zorro picked at a threadbare spot in the knee of his jeans. "It's a boring name, isn't it?"

"Well, I don't know about boring, but I like the name Zorro better."

Zorro nodded. "Me, too. And maybe Zakuro."

"Seriously?"

"Sure. There would only be one Zakuro." Zorro laughed. "And Zorro likes being one of a kind."

Nataku laughed with him. "You're a goofy thing, but I think you'll be okay now."

"Yes, Zorro feels much better, thank you."

"Okay, then." Nataku started the car. "Then you'll be at Pele's again on Friday?"

"Friday? Oh, I um--"

"If you're worried about Homura, don't be." Nataku frowned. "After I yelled at him, he gave me his solemn vow that he won't touch you again."

"Oh." Zorro didn't know how he felt about that.

"That is," Nataku steered the small, sputtering car out of the empty lot and then gave him a sly sideways glance. "Unless you _want_ him to touch you."

"Oh."

"Do you want him to?"

Zorro stared out the window, but he didn't have an answer.

 

***

 

 _At first, the prince wasn't sure he could trust the musician warrior. Several times, the travelers met with danger, and each time their opponents were rival bands infected with plague four-thousand-and-eighty. In many cases, they were coming to exact retribution from the warrior._

 _The prince learned quickly that although there were rumors to the opposite, the warrior was always honorable and loyal, simply misunderstood. Time and time again, the warrior saved the prince, sometimes at the cost of his own reputation._

 _"You said he was brave and handsome!" Sho's mother squealed. "Did he love the prince?"_

 _He was everything the prince ever hoped to have in a … in a friend. And more._

 

The following Friday night, Zorro had an answer.

Pele's Inferno was packed. Kougaiji wasn't at the door. Instead, it was some big guy with dark hair and a penetrating, blue-eyed stare. The guy asked Zorro his name--which was on the list as Zakuro--and then waved him inside but didn't take him downstairs. Zorro didn't know what to do, so he lurked at the back of the club, wondering if he should try going down to the dressing room on his own.

Mostly, he worried that Homura would ignore him. In fact, he'd worried all week. And now, as he worked his way through the club, he was worried about the big bruise on his forehead.

The night before, Zorro had come home from his part-time job to find his mother on one of her more extreme benders. He'd come into their tiny, wrecked apartment to find her leaning out a window and shouting at one of their neighbors. Sometime during the subsequent struggle, one of her flailing fists had accidentally connected with his temple. After that, her attitude had deteriorated into the hysterical sobs of a drunken guilt trip with soon-to-be-forgotten promises of change. It had taken several hours of his storytelling to get her settled down and asleep.

But even once the house was quiet and in some order, sleep had remained elusive for him. Every time he'd start to drift off, he'd remembered Homura's look of hurt surprise. All day he'd been unable to eat, and now his stomach ached, he was so nervous.

"Hey, Z."

It was Etsu. Before turning, he smoothed his hair over his bruise.

"Hi." He forced himself to make eye contact.

"What?" She stared back.

"I'm just surprised you talk to me. I always thought you didn't like me."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be an idiot. I gave you my number, remember? As far as people go, I guess you aren't too bad. And you do play a pretty mean guitar."

"Really?"

She didn't answer. Instead she leaned forward and quirked a tiny smile at him. "You're going out with Homura, aren't you?"

Zorro asked very slowly, "Why would you think that?"

Etsu shrugged. "The way you look at each other."

"But … he's a _man_."

"So?"

"You don't think that's weird?"

Estu ran her thumbs under her long, red-streaked hair and flung it over her shoulders. She sniffed disdainfully. "Don't be a conservative idiot. Grow a pair, would ya?"

Zorro remembered why she scared him. "Umm, okay."

"If you like him …" Her voice and gaze became softer, and she touched his shoulder. "What difference does it make?"

Etsu was a romantic. Who would have guessed? Of course, Zorro had enough sense to remain silent on the subject. There were several heartbeats of uncomfortable silence between them before Nataku saved the day by interrupting them.

"There you are!" Nataku grabbed Zorro's arm and tugged. "Come on, we need some help with a couple of songs."

"Me?"

"Of course, _you_." Nataku's laughter was like a healing balm. "You goof."

Zorro waved at Etsu as they headed toward the stage. "But, what about--"

"Homura? He's been waiting for you. He's kind of pathetic, actually. I was planning to find you anyway, but I wanted to see if he'd actually ask. He did." Nataku looked over his shoulder with a conspiratorial smile and then stopped. Turning to face Zorro, he asked, "Are you feeling all right, Zorro? You look pretty pale."

"Zorro had a rough night, but he is fine."

"Are you sure?"

Nataku stared at him with such open concern that Zorro was momentarily overcome with emotion. It wasn't often he was around someone who cared about him, and he didn't know how to react. He swallowed an unfamiliar lump in his throat and blinked his eyes furiously. "Yes, I'm sure."

"You know, Homura's had a few rough nights, too."

"Yeah?" Zorro fought his nervousness.

"Yeah." Nataku gave him a sly smile, and then grabbed his wrist. "Well, come on, then."

"Hey, there he is!" Zenon grinned at him when they walked into the dressing room. "How ya doin', Mr. Fox-like Pomegranate?"

Shien's voice was soft as he corrected him. "Zenon, his name is Zakuro."

Zenon winked at Zakuro. "Oh, yeah."

"Zakuro, in the song 'Banishing,' you did a series of chord changes, and I was wondering if you could show me again." Shien smiled at him. "Near the middle, at the break."

Zorro chewed on his bottom lip. "You want me to show you something?"

"Yes." Shien crossed his arms. "Music is a constant learning process. Did you think because you're inexperienced, you don't have anything to contribute?"

"I thought you said you were good." Homura's sinuous voice coiled around him like a python, giving him a thrilling shiver.

"I _am_ good." His voice was almost a whisper, and he cleared his throat. "Zor--Zakuro is good!"

Homura pushed the hair out of his blue eye and smiled. "That's good to know."

Zorro practically sighed with relief--Homura was still talking to him. He rubbed at his face with the heel of his hands. When he finished, he noticed everyone had quietly moved away from him. Everyone except Homura, that was.

Homura studied him with fierce intensity. Zorro writhed internally; he always felt so exposed under the dual-colored gaze. Homura took two meandering steps closer. With minimal contact and with his body blocking everyone else's view, he gently lifted the hair off Zorro's forehead. Homura didn't say anything as he carefully smoothed the hair back into place, but the look on his face was enough.

"It's not what you think. She didn't--" Zorro shook his head. "It was an accident, okay?"

"Sure." Homura's hand fell to his side, but his fingers twitched. He looked away. "You know, about the other night …"

Zorro didn't want Homura's touches to stop, and suddenly, he could hear Etsu's voice in his head. What difference did Homura's maleness make? He reached out and took Homura's hand. "Zakuro doesn't want you to worry. He's very strong, you know."

Homura's intense gaze focused on Zakuro again, but this time it was more questioning. "Is that so?"

"Yes." Zakuro raised Homura's hand and studied it. A leather binding with a D-ring was wrapped around his wrist. "What's that?"

Homura shrugged and smiled at him. "I was just trying out a new look, but I only managed to get one on so far." Dropping his voice into lower register, Homura said, "Do you like it?"

Zakuro could feel his face heat with his deep blush. "You'll probably think I'm weird, but they just seem to fit. You're always fighting for the underdog, so it looks like you've escaped from captivity. You know," he struggled to find the right words. "Free to fight another day."

Homura snickered. "That's very astute, my mighty pomegranate. I suspect there's a whole lot happening in that head all the time."

Unable to meet Homura's stare, he looked away. Stammering, he said, "Za-Zakuro is an accomplished storyteller."

"Are you? Do you write your stories down?"

"Yes," he answered, but didn't offer any more on the subject.

Homura held his hand for a moment before giving it a soft caress and dropping it. He picked up the remaining cuff and held it out to Zakuro. "Will you put the other one on me?"

"Sure." Zakuro fastened the multiple buckles to the cuff around Homura's wrist. When he finished, he stepped back and surveyed Homura's new look.

"They look awesome."

"Yeah?"

Homura was gorgeous in his black t-shirt, snug pants, and bracelets. "Yeah, you look," Zakuro swallowed, "really hot."

"Thank you." Homura smiled as he stepped forward and hooked a lock of Zakuro's hair over an ear. "I can't figure out what it is about you, but you really intrigue me. You’re like the call of a siren."

"That's--" Zakuro burst into laughter. "That's so corny! And I'm not--"

"I know I'm rushing you." Homura ran his fingers down Zakuro's neck in a gentle caress. "Unfortunately, we don't have a lot of time for romantic wooing. The War Gods will be leaving soon."

Zakuro shivered from the touch. "Leaving? Why?"

"We have a European tour coming up."

"How soon? For how long?"

"We leave in a couple of months. I guess how long depends." Homura shrugged. "Minimum looks like six months, but if we do well--which we will--my time away will be more like a year. Maybe two."

"Two years?" Zakuro experienced an unexpected tangle of emotions, and somewhere deep inside, something felt as if it were coming undone. "Oh."

"Come on, now, no long face." Homura touched his chin. "Can I kiss you?"

Zakuro nodded.

Homura leaned in and kissed him. The contact was insistently gentle, and Homura licked at Zorro's lips, nudging them open. Homura hummed as his tongue twisted around Zakuro's. Warm hands slid under Zakuro's shirt, caressing the sensitive skin of his low back and pressing their bodies tightly together. He felt out of control, alive and desperate, as his erection ground against Homura's hip.

"Yo!" Zenon called. "Music now, humping later."

Homura broke their kiss but kept his gaze locked with Zakuro's. "Right." Zakuro shuddered as Homura's hand cupped his ass and squeezed.

"After our performance, let's dance."

"But I don't know--"

"Come on." Homura stepped away, grabbing Zakuro's wrist.

Zenon wrenched his head away and shielded his face. "Aw, man, I don't want to see your boner."

Homura grinned at Zenon and slapped him on the back. "Then don't look, my friend."

 

After the band finished for the night, Kougaiji kept the club open for a private party. There were about a hundred people there, all friends of Kougaiji and the band. And once Kougaiji found out Etsu was Zakuro's friend, he let her stay, too. The dance floor was more open than usual, but there were still a good number of the guests dancing. Zakuro scanned the pulsing crowd and tried not to think about the noticeable absence of The War Gods. They were currently in the dressing room talking with a recording company scout.

Zakuro didn't know why, but he was nervous about that meeting. It was like a western showdown, a meeting of good and evil. Homura was always looking out for the little guy, and record companies were the origin of industry rule four-thousand-and-eighty. Any agreement between them couldn't be anything other than tentative.

He sat at a table with Etsu and their new acquaintance, the blond, spiky-haired bass player named Taira. Zakuro wasn't sure how he felt about Taira, he'd been the one talking to Homura at the festival, and they'd seemed overly close.

But after listening to the already-comfortable conversation about the best guitar pedals, Zakuro found himself drawn in. After that, the three of them talked music for over an hour, finding that they had similar ideals and dreams. Taira was currently without a band, and the three of them decided they should jam together and get to know each other better. They made plans to practice together in a few days.

Tiara and Etsu continued to talk as Zakuro's attention wandered toward the floor. He watched the breathing, swaying crowd as they kept time with the music. Out of the corner of an eye, he saw Homura and Nataku appear on the floor and walk with the recording guy toward the exit. They all looked very serious.

"Oh, look," Etsu's voice sounded pensive, "there they are."

Zakuro picked up his drink--a club soda--and took a sip. "I wonder what they're talking about."

Taira picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Well, whatever it is, you can be certain Homura's being careful."

Zakuro stared at Taira. "You mean because of industry rule four-thousand-and-eighty?"

Taira finished his beer and as he set the bottle on the table he said, "Yep, record companies are--"

"Shady!" Etsu raised her glass.

Zakuro was sure Etsu might have had too much to drink. She was very expressive and a little touchy--she was definitely not her normal self.

"Oh, look, Z, your boyfriend is dancing." Etsu pressed her shoulder into Zakuro's. "With a girl."

Following Etsu's gaze, Zakuro was startled to see a smiling Homura, moving in graceful tandem with a dark-haired, buxom beauty on the floor.

Taira turned his head. "Oh, that's Yaone. She went to school with Homura, Kou, and Doku."

"How do you know?" Etsu was leaning on Taira now.

"I've known Kou for a few years. You get to be friends with one of them, you meet them all."

"She's pretty." Zakuro couldn't disguise the bitterness in his voice. He had to say it--he didn't want to--but she really was very striking. That is, if you liked curvy girls with big eyes and long legs. And who liked those? Not Zakuro. He bit his lip.

The sleepy tempo of the dance music vibrated through Zakuro's internal organs as he watched Homura’s lazy sway on the dance floor with Yaone. His unhurried movements were graceful and his flirtatious smile infuriating. He was very good--and he knew it.

Zakuro felt he should do something, but he didn’t know what. Now that Homura was with a pretty girl, he wouldn’t want a klutz like Zakuro around to tease and torture any more. That would just be, well, weird.

Etsu leaned close. "Why don’t you go and dance with him?"

Zakuro shook his head.

"Is it because you don't know how? Etsu's expression sparkled with a startling clarity, leading Zakuro to the conclusion that maybe she wasn't so drunk after all. "I could teach you."

"You?"

She glared at him.

Nataku sat down next to him and said, "Or you could ask Homura."

Zakuro jumped. "You shouldn't sneak up on people!"

Nataku gave him a friendly pat on the arm. "I’m sure he’d love to teach you. He’s pretty good."

Zakuro exhaled with exasperation. "Yes, Zakuro noticed that."

"Ohh, do I detect some jealousy?"

Zakuro kept staring at Homura's smooth and confident steps. "Zakuro doesn't care."

"Right." Nataku placed his chin on his upraised hand. "They've moved up our trip to Europe. We leave in six weeks, almost a month early. You don't have much time, you know."

Zakuro faced his friend, feeling sadness wash over him. "That soon?"

"Yes. We start in Denmark and then go all over Europe." Nataku stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. "Almost a year, and we're going to be brutally busy. We're supposed to record, too."

Soon The War Gods would be gone. They were like a comet in Zakuro's life, rearranging gravity, causing cataclysmic changes, and then blazing out of sight. "I was hoping I would get more time with you and, you know, the rest of The War Gods."

"Homura's your first crush, isn't he?" Etsu didn't sound drunk at all, now.

"Um …" Zakuro felt his face heat.

"Oh, man." Taira shook his head. "You're hopeless. Just go dance already."

"He's right, Zakuro." Nataku gave him a confident smile. "You should go."

"But I don't know how to dance."

"Come on." Homura's voice said from behind Zakuro as a large, warm hand closed on one of his. "I'll show you."

Zakuro followed without speaking and without noticing what direction they took. All he his was aware of was his pounding heart. Homura didn't take Zakuro to the dance floor; instead, he led him off to one side of the stage. The music still thrummed through Zakuro's shoes, but the area was secluded and out of sight of the crowd.

"This should do." Homura tugged on Zakuro's hand, pulling him close and guiding him. Zakuro was so nervous he stumbled over one of Homura's feet and almost fell.

Homura's arm circled around Zakuro's back, steadying him and drawing him into a tight embrace. They swayed together, small undulations in time with the music. Warm breath brushed at Zakuro's ear as Homura coached, "Close your eyes, relax, and feel the music. Let it take you. And don't worry, I've got you."

Zakuro let the tension drain from his body as he concentrated on the music and Homura's warmth. He was beyond self-consciousness when they began to drift together, feet sliding and flowing with the unhurried techno-beat, moving with dreamlike lassitude. Zakuro willingly followed Homura's lead, surrendering completely, feeling the tempo mingle with his escalating desire.

"Yeah, just like that," Homura's low voice murmured in his ear. "You're feeling it now, aren't you?"

"Yes," Zakuro panted as he rolled his erection against Homura.

Homura's breath caught as his hands slid around Zakuro's hips, slowing their rhythm further and keeping their bodies pressed tightly together. Homura's eyes were dark as stared at Zakuro. "Well, my foxy pomegranate, would you like to come home with me?"

Zakuro could feel Homura's hard cock digging into his hip, and although he was terrified, he answered the only way he could. "Yes."

 

Soapy hands were all over Zakuro--caressing his neck, massaging his shoulders, sliding over his chest, stroking his back, sweeping up his inner thigh, and slipping in between his ass cheeks. Zakuro's breaths were shallow and quick as he tried not to twitch.

Under the warm spray of the shower, Homura pushed Zakuro's hair off his forehead and touched his cheek. "You haven't done this before."

Although it wasn't a question, Homura waited for an answer. Zakuro couldn't find his voice so instead, he just shook his head.

"Ah, well, I'm honored." Homura shut off the water and began to dry Zakuro with a worn but clean towel.

Zakuro's body thrummed with tension. In order to keep himself calm, he focused on the fogged-up mirror and the patterns made by the condensation. "I'm not gay." The words were reflexive, a simple signal of his feverish excitement. Homura seemed to understand that.

"Of course not." Homura rubbed the towel over Zakuro's chest and then stopped. He was very close when he asked, "Do you trust me?"

"I … don't know." Zakuro could see the mirror was beginning to clear.

"Zakuro, you need to look at me."

Homura stood before him, his warrior's body dazzled with water droplets. Zakuro couldn't help but follow the splashes of water as they descended, rolling over the ripped abs down to Homura's erection, hard and impossibly thick. Zakuro swallowed and forced his eyes upward to see Homura's amused, but intense expression. Zakuro's mouth felt dry as a desert.

"Do you want to stop?"

He was embarrassed but managed to whisper, "No."

Homura stepped closer and kissed him, tongue tickling his lips, seeking entrance. Zakuro opened his mouth, his knees weakening.

"Come on, my mighty Zakuro." Homura finished drying them both. "I promise to make you feel good."

Taking Zakuro's hand, Homura led him into the sparsely furnished bedroom. A single lamp on a frail-looking nightstand bathed the room in a low, yellowish light. Zakuro was shaking with fear and desire. When he looked into Homura's face, all he could see was a confident gaze tempered with what might be lust.

Homura kissed him, skillfully guiding him down and onto the soft bed. As Zakuro lay there, the entirety of his skin felt like one giant exposed nerve, and the slightest ripple of air on his body made him want to writhe. Bedsprings creaked quietly under their combined weight when Homura slid next to him on the bed, his fingers teasing Zakuro's feet and ankles.

Zakuro giggled. "That tickles."

Homura leered at him. "Does it? Well, that requires a bit more investigation." He moved to the end of the bed, picked up Zakuro's foot, and licked his toes.

"What are you--oh!" No one had ever licked Zakuro's toes before, and he would've never guessed the sensation would be so intense. He stared at the ceiling, trying to relax, his breath synchronizing with the touch of Homura's tongue between his toes.

Homura's mouth journeyed to his ankle and up his calves. Homura settled between Zakuro's legs, opening him wide and exposing him further. He squirmed and Homura looked up.

"I think we need to take the edge off."

"Huh?"

Homura's tongue began circling the tip of Zakuro's wet cock.

"Oh!" Zakuro's clutched at the bedding as his cock slid inside Homura's hot mouth. Real things were happening to him, things he'd only read about on porn sites and imagined in his more intimate stories. But this wasn't one of his illusions--this was mouth, tongue, surrounding, swallowing, and sucking. This was fellatio. A blow-job.

Homura's hair tickled the sensitive skin of Zakuro's inner thigh. He groaned as his hips bucked with the erotic pressure of Homura's tongue and throat. He wanted the sensation to last, but all too soon, Zakuro's balls tightened and his body convulsed as he came with a sudden cry.

Homura pulled away and sat back, licking at his lips with a smug smile. "That was quick."

Zakuro blushed and he would have argued, but he was feeling too good.

Leaning forward, Homura kissed him. Zakuro tasted a bitter muskiness and with something of a shock, he realized he was the origin of Homura's unusual flavor. Before he could stop himself, he licked at Homura's tongue, testing the strange yet enticing tanginess. He sighed into the kiss, his fingertips digging into Homura's arms, desperate to experience more.

"Hmm." Homura's deep voice reverberated between them. "I'm going to touch you. Okay?"

Homura settled between Zakuro's knees, and then reached to the bedside nightstand. Zakuro shivered as Homura held up a bottle of lubricant, the silver label glittering in the lamp's low, incandescent light. "This is good stuff. It should make everything easier."

Zakuro felt a building excitement as Homura's slick fingers caressed the sensitive skin below his balls, teased at his opening, and dipped inside him. Although it was a bit weird and it was uncomfortable for a minute, Zakuro didn't find it objectionable. In fact, the sensation was rather … hot.

"Good. You aren't fighting it." Homura looked up. "Stay that relaxed and you'll really like this. You're doing great."

Homura touched something inside and Zakuro's vision blurred. He cried out in surprise.

"Yes, there it is." Homura chuckled. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"Wha--?" Electric pleasure coursed through his entire body and for a moment, Zakuro thought he might pass out.

"Does it feel good?" Homura's fingers continued to rub the spot.

"Yeah." Zakuro's threw back his head as the internal touch made his body twinge with involuntary passion. His first thought was: no wonder guys do this. Unbelievably, his erection was returning as Homura caressed that spot. Zakuro's hips rocked in a countermotion to Homura's fingers, twisting to get the maximum touch. The stretching was a carnal ache as he clawed at the sheets and opened his legs.

"Do you want more?" Homura licked at the tip of Zakuro's erection.

"Yes." The erotic sight of Homura touching and watching him made Zakuro feel embarrassed and horny at the same time. The two sensations together didn't make any sense, but he didn't want to spare the energy to think about it. He lifted his hips. "Oh, yes."

Homura's fingers slipped out and Zakuro made a frustrated sound at the empty feeling.

"Patience." Homura flipped the lid off the lube again. Zakuro watched as Homura poured some into his hand, then covered his own impressive erection with the glistening lubricant. Zakuro raised his hand and curled his fingers over Homura's, touching the slick skin and the hard cock underneath. They moaned together.

Homura inched closer, nudging his cock at Zakuro's prepared opening, then sliding inside. The stretch was intense and Zakuro knew Homura was trying to be gentle, but as the sensation crossed over into pain, he cried out, "Oh, wait."

"Relax." Homura's breath was ragged as he stroked Zakuro's cock. "I'm all the way in. Let me know when you're ready, and I'll move."

Zakuro exhaled and the stretch eased. Homura inside him made him feel an odd sense of completion. He felt as if he were drifting on a calm sea, waiting for the next wave to roll against the hull of the boat.

"I'm ready."

Homura surged like that wave, backing out slowly and carefully, then reentering with a gentle thrust, only to start the entire process over again. Zakuro's back arched as he tried to press their bodies closer together, wanting more.

"Oh, god, you're quite the natural at this." Homura groaned as he slipped his arms under Zakuro's legs and opened him wider, stroking inside deeper and faster. "I'm not going to last much longer."

Zakuro could feel Homura's cock as it widened with his coming orgasm. The sensation was almost more stimulating than Zakuro's own had been; he felt power when Homura shuddered and collapsed on top of him. For a moment, Zakuro held all the power in their relationship, and he loved the feeling.

Minutes passed as Homura's breathing evened out. Finally, he rolled them over. Now underneath, he smoothed back Zakuro's hair and gave him a tender kiss. "Did you like that?"

Zakuro's cock ached for release. He tried to not sound disappointed or to rub against Homura when he said, "That was good."

Homura gave him a wide smile. "I know. You want more and you haven't come again. Yet. Just give me a couple of minutes because I definitely haven't had enough. It's been a while and I'm a little rusty, but I plan on making up for lost time."

Zakuro couldn't argue with that. He had no point of reference for Homura's rustiness, but he did know his cock was still hard.

"Don't worry, the second time is better." Homura's sweaty body slid against Zakuro's as he sat up, pulling them both upright and somehow keeping them connected. Amazingly, Homura still had an erection, and Zakuro groaned with the new, more intense penetration.

Zakuro's knees were on either side of Homura's thighs. Desperate for completion, Zakuro raised himself up, feeling Homura's cock brush against his prostate. He shifted his hips, getting the angle perfect and feeling the nearing tide of ecstasy.

"You really are a natural." Homura's hand coiled around Zakuro's erection and stroked him in synch with their thrusts.

That was all Zakuro needed. He pushed his hips downward and threw back his head as the waves of pleasure rippled through his body. Homura held him upright until the tremors of his orgasm passed.

"Are you okay?" Homura licked and bit at a nipple.

"Yeah."

Homura's breathing was ragged. "Can you take some more?"

"Yeah," Zakuro managed to squeak out, aware of Homura's cock lodged in his ass.

"Good." Homura pushed them down again and twisted Zakuro's body so he landed on his side. Straddling a single leg and lifting the other, Homura re-entered him. Homura's face was flushed and his voice hoarse as he said, "Remember, I just came so this might take a while. I hope you're ready."

Looking up into Homura's lust-filled gaze, Zakuro smiled. "As I said, Zakuro is strong. Show me what you've got."

"I accept your challenge," Homura laughed as his thrusts fell into a slow, powerful rhythm. "Don't worry, my Zakuro, I will show you."

And he did.

 

 _The prince of music was confused; there were too many choices before him, and all of them led to pain in one form or another._

 _"Why, Sho?"_

 _Because, if the prince chose to go with his lover, he'd have to leave his home. If he chose to keep playing his guitar, he'd have to give up his lover. If he chose to stay and guard his home, he'd have to give up everything. No one could help him now--the difficult choice was his to make alone._

 _"How horrible for him! What did he do?"_

 

Homura was skilled in the bedroom, and their first night together left a lasting impression on Zakuro--in more ways than one. For a few days after he could barely walk, and while he tried to avoid another bedroom encounter, Homura wasn't having it. He stated with his usual bravado that time was short and all possibilities needed exploration.

Zakuro was defiant, but weak, and Homura's charm was devastating when he used it without restraint. And night after hot, humid summer night found Zakuro in the same place, between the sheets on Homura's bed, panting and twisting in ecstasy. Their experimentation into the wilder side of pleasure kept Zakuro interested and on his toes as his ever-increasing libido matched Homura's. They'd tried so many different things that Zakuro's constant blush began to fade with his experience.

After a month together, he no longer thought surprise was an option in the bedroom. But nothing prepared him for the question Homura asked one night.

They were in bed, legs intertwined, still cooling off from their most recent bout of sex, when Homura asked, "Why don't you come with me?"

"What?" Zakuro turned his head. "Where?"

Homura rolled over onto his side and propped his head on his hand. "To Europe. You're eighteen now, and that's legal in most countries. I'm sure we could take you"

"But … what would I do? I'm not a band member."

"You could be."

"I can't."

"Why not?" Homura's fingers brushed against the skin on Zakuro's neck, lingering on his collarbone. "I'd take care of you."

"Tch." Zakuro frowned. "Just what Zakuro wants to hear--that someone else will take care of him."

"Come on, don’t be difficult." Homura gave him big smile. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do, but what would happen when you got tired of Zakuro? Or too busy? Or when one of those other things you've been talking about takes precedence in your life. Like the recording thing?"

"We’d work it out."

At least Homura didn’t deny the possibility of disaster, and although it made part of Zakuro sad, the other part appreciated the honesty. "Thank you, but I think Zakuro needs to stay here."

Homura drew random patterns on Zakuro’s skin, making him shiver. "Are you sure? It could be a great start to your career."

Zakuro shook his head. "I have my own band to put together. And if I do get famous, I'd like to do it on my own, not because I'm your toy."

Frowning, Homura said, "I don't think--"

"I know. But others will."

Homura's features were serious. "I suppose you have a point."

"Thank you for asking." Zakuro's throat seemed tight. "I … um, Zakuro will always remember you."

Homura quirked a smile and kissed him. "I'm certain you will always stay strong in my memory."

Zakuro sighed. "I'll miss you."

Homura kissed him again, this time with more passion. "I think we need to lighten the mood a bit. Maybe we need to try out those bondage cuffs now, don’t you think?"

"Oh, I hadn’t thought about that." Zakuro smiled, trying to erase his sadness at their coming separation. "But yeah, Zakuro thinks that might be an interesting turn to the evening."

Homura held him tight. "And this War God agrees."

 

Their remaining weeks together flew by like a dream and before he knew it, Zakuro was standing at the airport, watching a plane depart for Copenhagen. He stood there for hours, wondering if he should have gone and teetering on the edge of despair, before Etsu and Taira showed up.

"Yo," Etsu said as she stood next to him. She put her arm around his shoulder. "It's time to go see the singer Homura told us about."

"Right." Taira slapped him on the back. "And it's time for you to concentrate on music. It'll take your mind off him. You'll find that there's nothing like heartbreak to bring out the muses. Come on."

Zakuro followed his friends, still desperately clinging to his dreams even as sorrow lay heavy in his heart. "One day, we will be famous. We'll stand on stage, and our fans will love and worship us."

"Absolutely." Etsu slipped her arm through Zakuro's. "They'll chant our names, and we'll top the charts."

Taira sighed. "After we find a kick-ass singer, of course."

"And a drummer," Zakuro added. "Nataku gave me someone to call."

"Good." Etsu leaned on him. "You go back to school next week?"

"Yes. I graduate in the spring, and I promised my mother I would finish."

"You should," was all Etsu said.

Zakuro glanced at her and then gave her a smile. "Yeah."

 

 

The next three years passed by quickly. Zakuro followed the unfolding saga of The War Gods with scrutiny. Their surprisingly successful European and Asian tours resulted in their record, _Heaven Needs Remaking_ , topping the charts for months. After their moment in the sun, and after the speculation about the band’s next production began to wane and fade, The War Gods quietly disbanded.

People in the industry who knew Homura were hardly surprised when he began his own record label. There had been rumors about some attempted shady record dealings with The War Gods, all stymied by Homura. With Shien's perception, Zenon's cleverness, and Homura’s natural ability for sniffing out talent, the Taishi label flourished almost immediately. Homura was trying to change the recording industry single-handedly.

It was very like him.

Zakuro closed the latest issue of _Metal Hammer_ and tossed it next to him on the couch, absently cradling Grenadine on his lap. He stared at the magazine cover. Homura stared back at him with his sly, confident gaze. Dressed in alluring solid black, his arms were arms crossed over his ripped abs. When Zakuro saw the now-trademark bondage bracelets around Homura's wrists, he smiled and remembered his most recent encounter with his ex.

Half a world away, and after more than two years of separation, the show-off had managed to save Zakuro one more time.

Zakuro's band had been gathering power, their following growing. Zakuro could feel it--they could all feel it. The band known as The Illusion would be the one to take them to the top. But that was before the water became muddy with greed and conceit.

Nii Janyi, the owner of Phobos Records, had taken notice of The Illusion. Eventually he'd approached the band and offered them a very generous contract. Taira didn't like the deal because he'd heard bad things about Nii. Etsu didn't like Nii from the start. Their singer and drummer were all for it and argued about the "chance of a lifetime." And for a while, Zakuro had sat on the fence with indecision. Six months ago, he'd made his final determination when Homura had called him and warned him off. Homura convinced Zakuro that Nii was not a man to be trusted.

And true to Homura's warnings, as the band considered their options as a group, Kami, their lead singer, signed a contract on his own, taking the band's name and their drummer, Dougan, with him.

For months, Zakuro gnashed his teeth as he watched Kami throw his advance sales money around like water. Now, however, it was clear that Nii did not intend to release an album with Kami. The Illusion could not play without Nii's approval, which meant they were not allowed to play, period.

Kami and Dougan were locked in tight; they couldn't record, couldn't perform, and were now deeply in debt to their employer. They would rot on the shelves of Phobos Records, forgotten and hamstrung, victims of industry rule four-thousand-and-eighty.

Zakuro leaned back into the couch and quietly thanked Homura one more time. Maybe he didn't have a functioning band, but at least he had the option of rebuilding. Now that his depression over the whole The Illusion fiasco was easing, he needed to decide what steps he would take. Taira, tired of waiting for the band to reform, was playing in another band--until Zakuro found a replacement singer and drummer.

Only Etsu was still around. She’d stuck with him through thick and thin, and he was always happy for her loyalty. Plus, she also knew martial arts and was not afraid to kick ass when the situation called for it. Embarrassingly, and on more than one occasion, the ass-kicking had included him.

But what could he do with two guitarists and a bass player? He knew a decent drummer who might be available, but they had no singer. Etsu could sing, but she didn't want to front the band. He strummed Grenadine and chewed on his lip. He would have to find the right people and start all over again. Band building was painful and a time-consuming process, but he wasn’t ready to give up his dream just yet.

He felt a sudden loneliness. Homura was gone from his life, and he'd only had brief encounters with others since then. For a while, he'd spent some wild times with Doku's crazy younger brother, Gojyo. The sex was very good, the best Zakuro had ever experienced, but there was never anything substantial--it was only … sex. After a while, it became routine and empty. Zakuro moved on, searching for more.

Last year, he'd met and spent considerable amount of time with a flirtatious and charming bleached-blond named Kyosuke. Zakuro had almost fallen for the silver-tongued piano-player with the stunning green eyes and the infectious smile, but Kyosuke was pining for his own lost love and, apparently, Zakuro wasn't quite enough to fill the void. In the end, Zakuro was disappointed to realize that Kyosuke's capricious behavior rivaled that of Gojyo's, and he moved on again.

After that, there'd been the blond singer named Sanzo he'd met at a local gathering of bands. Zakuro had found Sanzo irresistible, but the attraction had been completely one-sided. Amazingly, Sanzo wasn't interested in the Mighty Zakuro.

There was a knock at his door, interrupting his thoughts. He didn't move.

"Z?" Etsu called from her room. "Are you going to get that?"

Etsu was also his completely platonic roommate. Zakuro had learned long ago that while the fans may love him, not everyone else did. Etsu loved him, but she was also very much not into him as a romantic partner. Surprisingly, their relationship worked. Sort of. At least the worst of his loneliness was held at bay by her acerbic presence.

There was another knock, this one more insistent.

"Zakuro?" There was that threatening sound in Etsu’s voice.

Zakuro murmured a sound of displeasure. "Yes, The Mighty Zakuro will lower himself to opening the door like a common—"

"For fuck's sake, just open the fucking door!"

He set down Grenadine and stood up, grumbling about ungrateful plebeians as he made his way to the door. Muttering, he pulled the door open.

A very handsome man stood there. Zakuro furrowed his brow.

"Nataku?"

"Yes." Nataku smiled. "You're a lot taller now. You look great!"

"Me? What about you?" Nataku was taller, but even more startling was how adult he seemed. His long, thick ponytail fell over one shoulder, and his frame was thin and wiry. With his gold eyes and his bright smile, he was very, very attractive.

Zakuro waved his friend inside. "Come in. The Mighty Zakuro is happy to see you."

Nataku floated past him like a god, his sinuous walk something Zakuro didn't recall from their earlier days. Zakuro's fingers twitched as he followed Nataku to the living room.

"So." Nataku's settled on a worn loveseat. "Homura tells me you might need a singer. As it turns out, I happen to be in need of a band."

"Homura? How did he--" Zakuro stopped. How did Homura figure out anything? Smiling, he said, "Yes. Zakuro is currently rebuilding his band. I suspect you'll fit the bill for a singer."

"What, no try-outs?"

Zakuro shook his head. "Don't be silly."

"Right." Nataku sighed and let his head fall back on the loveseat. "It's tiring, isn't it?"

"Yes." Zakuro picked up the copy of _Metal Hammer_ and sat down next to him. He was close enough to feel Nataku's warmth. "But I feel better now that you're here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Zakuro missed you."

"Me, too." Nataku turned and faced him. "And, I do have some good news. Homura says that if we could manage to get a decent band together and wow him, he would sign us."

"Wow him, huh?" Zakuro started to laugh and held up the magazine in his hand. "That definitely sounds like Homura."

'Yeah. He's still the same."

Carefully, Zakuro he set the edition of _Metal Hammer_ on a side table and gave Nataku his full attention. "Well, then. Zakuro has heard about this drummer and was going to see him tonight. Perhaps you'd like to join me?"

 

 _"So the warrior left the prince?"_

 _"Yes, his story led him down another path and away from the prince."_

 _"But that's so sad." Tears dripped down his mother's face. "Why are you so mean to tell me such a sad story?"_

 _"Just listen, okay?"_

 _Even though the prince had suffered through many hardships and been victorious in many ways, he knew the coming days would contain more challenges, heartbreaks, and triumphs. But there would be a new band, and he would prevail._

 _A new story was just starting to unfold._

 

End


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